


Through the Looking Glass

by heartfell_heartsworn (saint_etzer)



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: (at least in the beginning), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Children, Alternate Universe - Fae, Childhood Memories, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV First Person, POV Third Person, Slow Burn, basically jude is fae and cardan is human, it's one big retelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 22:22:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17948243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saint_etzer/pseuds/heartfell_heartsworn
Summary: “If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?” - Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass.An AU retelling of parts of The Cruel Prince, where Jude and her family are the reigning monarchs and Cardan is the underdog human. Featuring... basically as many of my favs as I can fit in, Jude with ram horns, a very sly Taryn, an imperialist Madoc and as always, some wonderful hatred between Cardan and Jude.





	1. Prologue

On a lazy Saturday afternoon, a man in a dark leather jacket hesitated in front of a busy mall entrance. He hadn’t stepped off the bus, nor walked over from the parking lot. The pack of tweens herding through the sets of glass doors certainly hadn’t seen him arrive. He simply appeared, as if stepping between one shadow and the next. 

 

The man walked towards the automatic, paneled doors and slipped inside. 

 

Inside the mall, Cardan stood at the edge of the main fountain, staring down at all the little coins at the bottom. His friends were a few stores down, staring through the windows at the newest releases of Razor scooters and bickering amongst themselves in the way that only grade-schoolers can on who was going to get which color when Christmas rolled around. The sound of their voices raised above the hubbub of the mall as they ganged up on the one kid who claimed to have enough allowance money to buy whatever he wanted right now. 

 

Cardan didn’t bother to join them. He didn’t have an allowance and he certainly wouldn’t get a scooter for Christmas. He leaned over the edge of the fountain, the water gurgling from the greenish pipes set in the middle of the display, the ripples barely disturbing the treasure trove of nickels and dimes and quarters beneath the surface. He stole a glance to the left, to the right - no one noticed him. No one ever noticed him.

 

Sometimes, this worked in his benefit.

 

He dipped his hand under the water and fished out coin after coin, pocketing them so quick that a damp spot of water spread out from both corners of his jeans. He tallied the numbers up as he went: 5, 10, 35, 60, 70, 75, 100 - one dollar - and on and on. By the time he noticed the man staring at him from across the fountain, he was at almost ten bucks.

 

He startled back, splashing a bit of water on himself as he tried to look innocent. He took out one of his coins (just a penny, of course), and tossed it in. He made a wish, since maybe mysterious men with warm gazes and golden hair could tell when wishes weren’t made in earnest.

 

But with the cold water of the fountain soaking through his thrice-patched jeans, all he could think to wish for was a way out of there.

 

He turned to look for his friends, but the pack had moved inside the toy store. His heart sank. He couldn’t go in there. Not after what happened last time.

 

Before he could set off to another corner of the mall, he felt a hand on his shoulder and yelped. “-Hey!”

 

It was that man again. He winked at Cardan, eyes the color of a morning sky and hair slicked back all cool. Even his jacket was cool, black leather and studded. He seemed far, far too cool to be winking at someone like him.

 

“Fond of wishing wells, boy?”

 

Cardan squinted up at him. His voice was weird, accented on the ends in a way he hadn’t heard before. Maybe he was on vacation? “Wishing wells?”

 

The man nodded at the gurgling, grey-watered fountain. “It’s bad luck to steal another’s wishes, you know. You may invite all sorts of awful curses on yourself.”

 

Cardan plastered an innocent, wide-eyed look on his face, the one that always got him out of trouble. “But stealing’s wrong. Why would I do that?”

 

The man stared down at him for a moment, an odd look playing across his features, and then chuckled. “I can’t imagine why. Tell me, whatever did you plan to do with that pittance?”

 

Cardan had no idea what pittance meant, but judging by this guy’s tone, it wasn’t good. He kept his eyes wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. Can I go now?”

 

“Has lying always came so easy to you, boy?” The man sat on the edge of the fountain and pulled out a few coins from his pocket. They caught the cool light of the long fluorescent bulbs above them, the ridges glinting gold. He offered one to Cardan.

 

Cardan had seen gold coins before, in pictures of pirate’s treasure chests and in those mesh bags of chocolate coins always handed out around Easter. But somehow, he knew, in a part of him he wasn’t sure where of, that this was the real stuff.

 

He didn’t take it, just stared and mumbled, “I guess.”

 

“A deal for you, boy.” The man kept holding out the coin. It felt like all the noise and sounds and smells of the packed mall were filtering away, leaving nothing but the man, the coin, and Cardan. His voice was heavy and sweet, promising something Cardan could only dream of. “If you agree to come and lie for me, you’ll live among riches a thousand thousand times greater than anything you’ve ever seen or heard of.”

 

Cardan glanced away from the coin and up at the man, staring through his mop of black curls. He squinted, trying to figure this dude out through the dull haze that settled around him. “Why do I need to lie for you? Why can’t you lie for yourself?”

 

“The same reason why you can take those coins from the fountain, and I cannot. Rules are different for our sort.”  The coin seemed to glow, rich as honey.

 

That made sense. Adults had to do things kids didn’t have to, and it worked the other way around too. He glanced over his shoulder, through the mist to the toy store, where the scooters were hung like trophy animals in the glass display. With that much money, he could buy whatever he wanted. He’d never have to fish out coins from a fountain, or steal allowances, or lie to strangers for ‘bus money’. He’d finally be cool.

 

And besides, he lied all the time already. How bad could a bit more be?

 

He turned back and reached out for the coin. “Deal.”

 

\-------------

 

He barely remembered the rest. The man had taken him away, onto the back of a horse that seem to come from nowhere, and then off across the sky. This seemed completely normal. Why wouldn’t there be a horse like this? There was no time to get his toys or games or anything from home, only the backpack that he had with him. He tried asking more questions, but it was hard to keep track of the answers with his head so fuzzy. 

 

By the time they had arrived at the grand palace, stripped him of his old clothes and forced him into some weird vest-thing all gold and green and strung all sorts of flowers in his hair, he just understood that he was to be a friend to two faerie princesses and that he was to always tell Dain, this man who was his new guardian, everything that they told him. 

 

It felt like a dream. It probably was a dream. The palace was like nothing he had seen before, a fortress that rose above the cliffs, high spires and peaks manned by creatures riding gryphons and winged people flitting about. Wherever he looked he saw more odd people, with bright stares and weird ears all coated in armor. The armor was always red or black, with a picture of a knife, a crescent moon turned on its side so it rests like a cup, and a single drop of blood falling from one corner. Even his own new, weird vest had it on the front. 

 

“What is this?” He poked at his vest as Dain led him along by an arm. The man - fae, he realized, or maybe elf - had changed into different clothes as well. He didn’t notice the odd glances they were getting.

 

“It’s the King’s crest. Don’t-” He swatted Cardan’s hand away from pulling at the thread. “Don’t.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Remember,” Dain said as they drew up before a grand set of doors, the front covered in metal wrought to look like a battlefield, “Do not upset the princesses. No matter what they say. No matter what they do. Lie as much as you must to keep them happy. Entertain them. And always be glad to take their punishments.”

 

Before Cardan could process what that last bit meant, Dain pushed the doors open. Two figures sat inside the opulent library. No, not two, Cardan realized - three. A huge man sitting in a high backed chair, reading something to a girl nestled in his lap, and a third girl, identical to the first, sulking in the nearby corner. 

 

Dain carefully ushered Cardan inside. He didn’t have any time to adjust to the sudden waft of candlesmoke or the faint smell of dried blood that seemed everywhere. He tried not to stare at the two girls, but it was hard not to. They seemed his age, or really close, identical but for the horns on their heads. The girl sitting in the man’s lap had delicate, curled horns draped with silver chains, the flecks of metal then wound into her thick mass of unbound curls. She was prettier than anyone Cardan had ever seen before and looked like a princess straight out of a fairytale, fancy dress and all.

 

The girl sulking in the corner had horns like a ram’s, small but curled. She didn’t wear any fancy jewelry on her’s. She didn’t even have a fancy dress, just a ripped shirt and pants. He squinted at her feet, trying to figure out what sort of weird shoes she had on. Wait. Those weren’t shoes at all. Those were hooves. She had hooves for feet. 

 

While he stood there stunned, Dain cleared his throat and dipped into a low bow, pushing Cardan to do the same. “My Liege. I have brought what you requested.”

 

The man carefully shut the book and turned his gaze onto Cardan. He met it, unsure of what to do. The man’s eyes were slitted like a cat’s and his teeth seemed too big for his mouth. A dark crown rested atop his head, the metal looking like thorns twisted together and burnt to a crisp. 

 

“Why did it take you so long.”

 

“Changelings are hard to arrange, milord. But is he not the prettiest little human you’ve ever seen?” Cardan felt Dain’s hand at his back, pushing him forward. He stumbled into the library, coming to an awkward halt before the King and the princess. She was looking at him over the edge of the book, eyes bright and glittering. 

 

The King looked down at him for a long while. Cardan swallowed and attempted a smile. He had never had this many people notice him in one day. 

 

“Is he glamoured?”

 

“Only a touch, to make the trip over less...disruptive.”

 

The King frowned. “We won’t have any of that. Tell me boy-” 

 

“Cardan.” His voice was small.

 

The room fell silent. He didn’t move. He was so sick of everyone here calling him boy. He had a name, and it was a good one.

 

The King looked at him for a long moment, and then said slowly, “...Tell me Cardan, do you know why you are here?”

 

“To...” He glanced back at Dain. The man just nodded. He looked back to the King, to the lovely princess on his knee, to the other princess glaring at him from the corner. “To...to be a companion to the princesses, and entertain them, and do whatever I can.”

 

“And to take their punishments.” The King’s voice was not unkind, but it was solid.

 

Cardan felt an uncomfortable itch in the back of his neck, like his skin didn’t fit right. “R-right. And that.”

 

The King rose, carefully setting the lovely princess down on the ground. She continued to hide her face behind the book (Cardan wasn’t sure why - it had to be the same as the other girl’s) as she scurried to sit in the corner with her sister. 

 

“I do not believe in raising a hand against one’s children to teach them. One ought not act against their family in such a way. However, I can only stomach so many complaints about my daughter’s behavior before something must be done.” The King continued to speak as he walked back to Dain and handed something over. A branch?

 

Dain turned to face Cardan as the King went to retrieve the two girls from the plush corner. There was an odd light in the man’s eyes. He held the small branch loosely in his hands.

 

“A whipping boy is a customary tradition, made to instill a sense of responsibility in gentry children,” The King continued. “I-”

 

“I don’t  _ want _ him.” Her voice was a low growl. The other girl had finally stood, her little hooves digging into the carpet as she glared at Cardan. Her hair, the same rich brown of her sister’s, was pulled back into a thick braid. Her teeth were like her father’s, the lower fangs too big for her mouth. She wasn’t lovely like her sister.

 

She was terrifying.

 

“This is not about wants, Jude,” The King admonished. “This is about seeing the repercussions of your actions.”

 

Dain advanced on Cardan. He wanted to run. He felt like he should run. But he couldn’t. Even as Dain unlaced the back of his tunic, he didn’t move.

 

Even as the switch fell, he didn’t move. 

 

\--------

 

He woke up to a girl’s face staring down at him, her eyes the hazel of a summer’s wood. For a moment, he was still lost in dreams.

 

Then the pain came back.

 

His back felt like it was on fire. The first night, the switch had fallen again and again until he couldn’t count, until the lovely princess was wailing and the other princess fell silent. He didn’t remember it ending. He didn’t remember being put to bed somewhere so soft. 

 

He had remembered waking up, though. A room so ornate that it was like a dream. Food like nothing he had ever tasted before, from sweet golden-apple that made him so happy he thought he might burst to the sweetest, reddest juice. It was way better than school breakfasts and lukewarm chocolate milk. 

 

His days passed in an easy haze. He knew he was being beaten by Dain, but he could never keep track of why, or for what. He tried to entertain the princesses with jokes and stories, but the lovely princess - Taryn - only cared about fairy tales and the other princess - Jude - didn’t care about him at all. Whenever the King - Madoc - would show up, Dain would feed him something salty and set a strand of rowan berries around his neck. That would make the haze lift, but he was afraid of that. That’s when the pain would set back in.

 

Soon, the lovely princess called for him less and less, and he wasn’t even needed for whippings. All that time spent learning court decorum and etiquette, wasted. He fell asleep for long stretches, weeks and months passing at a time. Sometimes he’d wake up to be doted upon and played with like a doll by the nobles, but mostly he was just forgotten in a corner. He thought he should be upset about this, maybe, but it was hard to feel anything. He missed something. He just wasn’t sure what it was.

 

But now, at night, with Jude pouring salty ocean water in his mouth, the pain was here again. He let out a small, pained gasp, only for Jude to clap her hand over his mouth with a snarl. “Shut up.”

 

He shut up.

 

She pushed him out of bed and into clothes, the loose-fitting stuff that was easy to get out of and always hid his back. She didn’t give him time to put on the fancy wreaths and jewelry and little trinkets that the other fancy nobles loved to dress him up with. She just keep shoving and shoving, eyes dark and hateful. 

 

“I know you hate me,” He said between awkward hobbles into his boots, “But killing me in the night’s gotta be too much even for you, right?”

 

“Shut  _ up.”  _ She managed to shove him all the way out of his room, down the hall, down another hall and finally to the side courtyard. It was quiet, this late in the morning, the sunlight filtering through dappled leaves. Cardan knew Jude was just a kid like he was, but she never seemed like it. She always seemed too angry for it.

 

Cardan stumbled into the grass, struggling to stay upright. The pain was a dull ache, ages old. How long had he been asleep? Why did Jude look older? Why didn’t he feel older? Why was she pointing a sword at him?

 

Wait.

 

Why was she pointing a sword at him.

 

He held up both hands palms-out, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. “Milady, it was only a jest-” 

 

“You’re not wanted here anymore.”

 

“...What?”

 

“You heard me.” She gestured away from the castle with her sword, her gold-tipped hooves digging into the soft dirt of the courtyard. “Go off and find other people to bother.”

 

“It’s hardly fair,” He mumbled out, struggling to organize his thoughts, “To throw me out after I’ve just woken up.”

 

“Nothing’s fair.” Her gaze burned so bright, dark brows drawn down and mouth set in a cruel line. She must be enjoying this, throwing him out with nothing. 

 

“Where will I go?” He hated how weak his voice sounded.

 

“To Dain. To the sea. To the woods. Any place your heart desires. Simply be gone from this place before I chase you out myself.” Her arm holding the sword remained steady. The morning sun glinted off of the gold circlet woven into her hair.

 

The rowan berries sat heavy around his neck. He wasn’t sure when they had been put on, or who did it. Maybe they’d always been there. Maybe he had always been here. 

 

He swallowed and managed the most shallowest of bows. “Your command is my command, milady.” 

 

And before she could skewer him for impertinence alone, he turned and ran. 

 

\--------

 

Dain was the one who found him in the end. He was dragged back to the palace, but this time they went under. A Court of Shadows, Dain called it, and his new home now that he had ruined his chances with the princesses so thoroughly. Not an entirely wasted effort, though. He was still young and lovely, and looks could carry a human changeling quite far, even in Madoc’s more imperial-minded court. 

 

But all Cardan could think of was Jude’s cruel stare as she banished him, the sun shimmering along her sword, and he felt a warm fire of hatred blossom within him. 


	2. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cardan gets ready for the ball and is as salty as ever.

I sit on a chair as a pixie brushes my hair back from my face. At least, I think she’s a pixie. Part-pixie at least. It’d be rude to ask. Her fingers are careful and delicate as she pins the curls back. Her bright, white-lash rimmed eyes meet mine in the scuffed mirror before us. 

“Can you believe the tournament’s just four days away?” the woman says. Her name is Lilliver - or The Bomb, depending on who you ask - and she’s a member of the Court of Shadows as I am. She was one of the first to bother with me when I first came here, a miserable child with few skills but looking like an idiot, and she’s... well, not really kept me out of harm’s way, but kept me from dying since. I’d say I’m in her debt, but debt is a tricky thing among the fae. Better to not mention it at all. “I keep asking Van for at least one more night to test my formulas, but he says that they’re good enough as-is. Can you believe that?”

I drawl out, “Shouldn’t we be worrying if I’m good enough as-is right now?”

She scoffs and socks my shoulder lightly, pulling back to admire her handiwork. “You’re always the center of any party. I don’t even have to try to make you any fancier.”

The fae are overfond of telling me how lucky I am to be human and still handsome, as if the two are mutually exclusive. As if commanding the center of attention comes down to looks alone. It’s a discredit to my abilities, really.

I know it’s still an honor to be allowed to attend the revels of the gentry, but the favor is sour considering my role there. 

“Hard to improve perfection,” I say, and stand. Though I’m dressed in the finest cuts of silks and my hair is threaded with silver, my main priority at such events is not finding a partner for the night - though that is a convenient side bonus. No, my role is that of informant for the Court of Shadows, finding out information through my own web of lies and flattery. It’s remarkably easy to make people feel important, I’ve found, and even easier to delight the fae with easy cruelty. 

If anything, it’s hard not to be cruel towards the fae. They care so little for the feelings of others and barely care for the feelings of those close to them. It’s like walking in an alien world every night. I know the human realm is just there, just beyond the veil, but my memories of my time before Elfhame are so hazy that they are barely more than dreams.

After High Princess Jude threw me out of the palace, out of my life of easy comfort and safety, I found work among the Court of Shadows. Dain said that I had to pay off my debt to him, as he spent so much on making me an erstwhile companion to the princesses only for me to go and ruin it all. I have little love for Dain, but working for the Court is rewarding enough. And with no connection to the human realm and few other friends, I have little idea where else I would go.

There’s little peace to be found in the other fae realms as well, with Madoc pursuing a policy of absolute imperialism. Ever since he claimed the throne through conquest and bloodshed, deposing the former royal family and forging a new crown and kingdom out of the ashes of his enemies, Elfhame has gone on to conquer almost all of the solitary courts. And though Madoc rules them as colonies, he holds little love for humans in any of them, much less forgotten changelings. 

“Nice look,” The Ghost says, seeming to appear out of the shadows in the doorway. He’s dressed in the palace livery, looking for all the world just another nameless grunt of Madoc’s.

Lilliver clutches her chest. “Why! Why do you always do that?!”

He shrugs. “It’s fun.” He casts a grin my way. “Ready for the night?”

I straighten the rowanberries around my neck, adjust the high collar of my doublet and triple-check the jewelry hanging from my far-too-round ears. I think of the faerie circles I must not dance in and the wine I must not drink. I think of the words I must not say and the ones I must. I think of the people I must speak with and the ones I must never say a single word to. 

I turn and flash the brightest, easiest smile I can conjure. “Absolutely not. I’m not even a little bit drunk yet. We’re not leaving until I can’t remember my name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing from Cardan's PoV in first person is very odd! i hope i settle into it a bit more!

**Author's Note:**

> lord i hope this doesn't end up with me trying to rewrite all of TCP. that'd be silly.


End file.
